


Survival of the Richest

by MissTiffanyBlews



Category: Subnautica (Video Game), Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Crack Taken Seriously, Crossover, i guess??, this is complete nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 02:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTiffanyBlews/pseuds/MissTiffanyBlews
Summary: This is purely self indulgent as I play through Subnautica.





	Survival of the Richest

The sun warmed his skin, the air tousled his curls, the smell of the sea lingered in his nose, and the sound of crashing waves filled his ears. Santiago hummed in content, pleased to wake up on vacation, and happy to drift back to sleep. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain coming from his shin, as if he had been stabbed. He hissed and yanked his leg away on reflex. Brown eyes struggled to open, fighting the bright light that caused them to burn. Half blind, there was another stab of pain, but from his elbow. He batted away whatever had hurt him, surprised to hear a protesting chirp.

Somehow, Santiago found himself on a beach, sand in his hair and strange crab-like creatures taking bites out of him. They walked on four sharp legs, had a large blue eye on top, and two little pinchers to take chunks out of him with. Still lying down, he slammed the heel of his boot down on the one who had bitten his leg. He sent the other flying by back handing it.

“Ow! Fuck!”

Head swiveling around to find the noise, Santiago was relieved to find Catfish not too far from him. He was in the same position, lying down and being nibbled on by the little pests. He scrambled to his feet, sending sand flying, and stomped on the crab things. “Fish, you okay?”

Frankie didn’t look too happy with the rude awakening. “Yeah, but -- where the fuck are we?”

That was a good question, one Santiago didn’t have an answer for. “I don’t know. I woke up just before you did.” The beach they were on was small, surrounded by cliffs, and the water was only several meters away. The horizon stretched out far, with no other land in sight. Had they somehow woken up on a deserted island? Even ignoring the cliche, that didn’t explain how they had gotten here. And those crab things? They certainly weren’t an animal he was familiar with.

“We should head for higher ground, see if we can spot anything from there.” Catfish’s baseball cap didn’t protect his eyes from the sunlight, making the man squint as he looked up towards the peaks of the mountains. “There,” he said, pointing to the oddly shaped building at the very top. “Maybe someone’s home.”

“That might not be a good thing.” Santiago did a quick count of his ammo. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any water damage to his guns or ammunition. If they had washed up on shore, then there would have to be some more of damage from being submerged.

The pathway was steep, forcing them to move slowly up the incline. Only several meters above sea level, and suddenly the plant life flourished. It was beautiful, but it also brought a sense of dread. The flora was completely unfamiliar, much like the little crab creatures. Although he didn’t want to think of it, all the life here was rather alien. There were giant orange mushrooms that were curved the wrong way, and trees that glowed blue.

Frankie drew to a stop at he watched a stingray shaped bird perch on a nearby tree. “This isn’t right. We have to be hallucinating, or -- or --”

Santiago opened his mouth to insist that shared hallucinations weren’t a thing, but he was cut off.

“Pope! Catfish!”

Simultaneously, their heads turned. On the ridge above them was William Miller, sporting a big smile. Two other figures appeared beside Ironhead. One was his brother Ben, and the other was Tom “Redfly” Davis. Santiago let out a shocked laugh. He and Catfish had matching smiles as they scrambled up the pathway to where it intersected with the top of the ridge. They all exchanged hugs and claps on their shoulders and backs.

“We were worried sick --”

“Thought you two were dead --”

“We thought we were all by ourselves --”

In their excitement, they all talked over each other. Only when they settled down did grim looks cross their faces. They were more than happy that they weren’t alone and that their brothers in arms were alive, but that didn’t help them figure out where they were.

“Where’s the money?” Tom asked.

“Are you serious?” William snapped. “We’re lost in the middle of the ocean on some weird fucking island and you’re worried about they money?!”

“Hey, come on,” Santiago said, trying to calm them down.

“We’re here because of that fucking money,” Tom insisted. “We woke up without any of the bags, but we still have our guns and ammo. If someone had stolen it, they would have taken our weapons too, right? That way we couldn’t come after them.”

“Maybe it’s at the bottom of the ocean.” Frankie cut in. “We washed up on shore, right?”

“Wrong.” Ben frowned at him. “We woke up under some trees. Away from the water.”

“Then how did we get here?” Frankie asked.

“Where even is here?” Santiago sighed, the pads of his fingers rubbing at his eyes. “Catfish and I were heading for higher ground, to the building up there. Figured that maybe we could at least look around with the height advantage, and maybe find other people. Someone had to put those buildings there.”

“Yeah, but they look pretty old, man.” William fished his binoculars out and handed them over. “They’re rusted over,” he said as Santiago peered at the building before handing the binoculars over to Catfish to take a look.

“I’ve never seen architecture like that,” Tom added.

“And what about the other one?”

“What other one?”

“The other mountain,” Ben said, pointing. It wasn’t easy to make out, but sure enough there was another building on the peak on the other side of the island.

“Alright, we continue on to building one, see what we can find there. And then we scope out building two,” Tom decided as the binoculars exchanged hands once again.

“What about water?” William asked. “It’s gotta be over 90 degrees and we haven’t seen any fresh water. No one knows we’re out here, so rescue isn’t an option. Without water, we aren’t going to survive getting home.”

“If we’re lucky,” Ben said, “they’ll be supplies in the building.”

“If we’re lucky,” Frankie repeated.

\--

The path upwards wasn’t an easy one. The sun was turing the Millers’ faces red, and Tom was looking a bit pink himself. Despite their years of training, of carrying their supplies through intense conditions, they still struggled. Sweat gathered on their brows and above their lips. Their armor was thick and cooked them slowly. The island wasn’t easy to navigate either; it was full of caves and dead ins. They had found another building, but it was half destroyed and impossible to enter. They were forced to continue on, slowly moving uphill.

“Careful, it’s real narrow here,” William called back to the others. The gunshot wound in his side had stopped bleeding days ago, but it hadn’t gotten any proper care and it slowed him down. They had put him in the front of the group, so their pace could match his and he wouldn’t be left behind. William had been so focused on watching his footing along the cliffside that he hadn’t looked up until he heard Catfish’s soft “holy shit” from behind him.

They hadn’t seen it from the other side of the island, with the mountains in the way, but on the horizon was -- well, it had to be a spaceship. There wasn’t any other way to describe it. A giant crashed spaceship loomed in the distance, on fire and partially sunk.

“What the fuck,” Tom moaned. “That’s -- that’s a fucking spaceship! Are we -- are are on an alien planet?”

“No, no fucking way,” William gasped.

“Think whoever crashed made the buildings?” Ben asked, peering through his binoculars to get a better look at the ship.

“I doubt it. That thing’s still on fire, and the buildings here have to be years old based on the rust.” Catfish chewed on his lip in thought. “Assuming they used jet fuel, there would have to be a lot of it to power the whole thing, but I don’t think it’d still be burning all this time.”

“Alright,” Santiago sighed, “so someone used to live here. Maybe they were stranded too. But they’re gone now, leaving this place to rust. And someone else crash landed here, probably recently. Any chance of survivors?”

“Can’t see much with all this fog,” Ben gripped.

Santiago hadn’t even noticed the fog. The air on the island was clear, but when he looked closer, fog clung heavily in the air around the island. And that -- that was weird. Everything about this was weird.

“Come on,” William prompted, “maybe we can find some answers in the building.”

They didn’t find any answers in the building. Everything was worn down by years of exposure. There were some plants inside, taking in sunlight through the window, and rainfall through the cracks and the open door. A tree made of twisted vines held bright orange fruit. Prompted by hunger and thirst, Tom was quick to pluck to fruit from the limb.

“Dude,” Catfish squawked, “that could be poisonous!”

“If it was poisonous, why would they be growing it?” he shot back. “Looks like they were growing their own food.”

“But we don’t know what it is,” Catfish insisted.

“Then we find out.” William plucked the fruit from Tom’s hand and sunk his teeth in. “Oh, holy shit.” Juices ran down his chin and got lost in his facial hair. “That’s so good.” Eager for some form of sustenance, the others each quickly plucked a fruit from the tree and began eating.

“It’s like,” Tom started, trying to figure out a way to describe the taste. “Like a peach, but also…”

“Like a mango,” Santiago added. “I fucking hate mangoes, but I think I’ll make an exception this time.”

While they were all eager to eat their fill, they knew that they needed to take it slow, that they needed the food to last them. They wouldn’t be able to survive off alien fruit anyway. But the sun was going down and they could too easily get lost at night. Stripping out of their armor, they settled onto the cold, hard ground of the base for the night. Ben stood in the doorway, taking first watch. The others hadn’t been asleep for long when his hushed voice was urging them awake.

“There’s someone on the island,” he whispered. He pointed into the darkness, the moonlight barely allowing them to see. The small beach where Pope and Catfish had woken up was a light. It bobbed up and down, much like someone holding a flashlight.


End file.
